


A Little Misdirection

by isengard



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, boys being stupid about feelings, conner is kind of conner but kind of kon, idk guys, this is really dumb don't read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isengard/pseuds/isengard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the tragic events of Endgame, Tim decides he and Conner need to stop being idiots about each other, so he enlists Cassie and M'gann to help him do one last stupid thing to <em>finally</em> get Conner's undivided attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Misdirection

M'gann leans against the tree, raising an eyebrow at something over his shoulder. “What're you looking at?” he asks, swiveling around. Tim and Cassie are just standing and talking to Virgil, it doesn't look particularly interesting – and then he sees it.

“What the – ”

It's a little like getting punched in the chest. Conner's had the wind knocked out of him a fair share of times, superstrength notwithstanding, and that's more or less his experience right now, seeing Tim standing there with his hand curled around Cassie's. It's _not_ friendly, Conner might not be the all-knowing expert on shit like this, but their arms are behind Cassie's back, fingers interlaced – it's _intimate_ , it makes something in his chest curl inward like some kind of emotional gag reflex.

He swallows. “Um. Since when are Tim and Cassie a couple?” He's tries to sound mildly curious, and it comes out more on the side of bewildered. Oh, well. Better than the complete confusion and upheaval he's actually feeling.

She sighs and gives him a sort of pitying look. He struggles to keep his face impassive. “Since Wally...you know.” She looks at her hands, and he bows his head to do the same. “Kind of a, 'life-is-short' thing. It gave Cassie the courage to finally kiss him.” She smiles, a little sad, a little dreamy. “Romantic, huh?”

Oh, _sure_. Fucking romantic as hell. It's all so goddamn _romantic_ Conner wants to puke. “Really?” he hears himself ask, and God, he sounds pathetic. “ _Cassie_?” It's not that he dislikes Cassie – the opposite, really, he respects and likes her tremendously, but it just doesn't sound like her. Cassie's a lot like him, she carries more than she needs to, she doesn't take crap from anyone, and she sure as hell doesn't _lack_ in courage. In fact, (also not unlike him) her courageousness sometimes crosses into tactlessness, and they've both been told on multiple occasions that they could do with a little less.

Such are the pitfalls of superhuman invulnerability.

When he looks up at M'gann, she's looking at Tim and Cassie again, trying to hide a smile and doing a terrible job. His hands clench at his sides. “Don't be so surprised,” she says. “That kind of courage can be hard to come by.” She squeezes his shoulder and gives him a pointed look before turning and heading back to the zeta tubes.

Conner casts a final look behind him at his two teammates before he follows, hunching his shoulders and trying to ignore the turmoil that's spreading inside him. It's not like he really even has a right to complain; not like he's actually _told_ Tim how he feels, not with words anyways. Even so, there've been a few times when they've been alone, and he thought _maybe_ – but, evidently not. Cassie beat him to it. He'll just have to deal.

***

M'gann has to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing as she makes her way back to the zeta tubes. _He completely bought it_ , she says over the mind link to Tim and Cassie. _God, you should've seen his face. I actually feel kind of bad now_.

 _Don't feel bad_ , Tim replies dryly. _If he wasn't such a total blockhead, I wouldn't've had to resort to this_.

 _I can't believe I agreed to this_ , Cassie sighs. _Don't drag it out too long, Tim. I'm gonna be looking over my shoulder until I know Conner doesn't want my head on a stick_. 

_Nah, shouldn't take that long_ , Tim says. _Kon's not the type to stew with this stuff. If I'm right, he'll be on my case about this before the end of the day_.

 _Hopefully he doesn't want_ all _our heads on sticks when he finds out_ , M'gann muses.

Tim laughs. _Leave that to me_.

***

“You'll visit, right?” Conner asks, frowning.

“Hey, it's a two way street,” Dick says, giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “But yeah, of course I will. I just gotta – I need some space, you know?” His posture is heavy with grief, despite his cheerful tone. Conner feels it too, the weight of Wally's death, worse than Artemis's in a way because he doesn't even have a killer to be angry at. But no one's taken it harder than Dick, who, Conner knows, blames himself for dragging Wally back into the game in the first place. He wishes there was anything he could say, anything he could do to ease that burden, but he knows his friend too well to try.

“We'll miss you,” he sighs. “God, it's really changing around here.”

“Hopefully for the better,” Dick says firmly. “You heard Batman. You're all in with the League now; they'll have your backs. It's what we've been working toward. What we started when – ” his voice cracks a little, and Conner's heart lurches. “Well. When we started.”

Conner feels like now would be the appropriate time to offer a handshake, or a mutual manly shoulder-pat, but he's hopelessly distracted when Cassie and Tim walk by, hand in hand _again_ , like it's fucking Valentine's Day and his worst nightmare all rolled into one horrible image. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and Dick straightens a little in surprise next to him.

“When did _that_ happen?”

“It's new,” Conner says shortly. 

Dick looks confused, almost like he wants to laugh but isn't certain whether it's funny or not. “Um,” he says. “That's. Interesting.”

Barbara, M'gann, Artemis, Zatanna, and Karen are all waiting for Cassie at the zeta tubes. They're going to Raven's bachelorette party, something about Green Lanterns in g-strings that Conner isn't sure he wants to know anything about. Cassie turns to face Tim, and Conner accidentally turns the gum wrapper he's holding into powder when she throws her arms around him and gives him an enormous kiss on the lips. For once, he's very grateful he doesn't have laser vision.

“Huh,” Dick says, crossing his arms. He gives Conner a funny look. Then he shrugs. “Well, good for them I guess.”

“I guess,” Conner echoes. His mouth is uncomfortably dry. Tim is walking away from the zeta tubes now, looking somewhat dazed. 

“Hey, Robin!” Dick calls. Conner hears an edge of mischief to his voice. “Way to go, man!”

Tim's eyes are wide as they sweep across the room, past Dick, before locking with Conner's. He walks over to them, cheeks reddening enormously. Conner feels the tightness of arousal in his gut, Tim looks _so_ gorgeous when he's embarrassed. It's patently unfair.

He stops in front of Dick and looks nervously between them. “Um. Thanks?”

Conner can see the faint shine of spit left behind on Tim's upper lip. By some miracle, he manages to suppress the urge to throw Dick aside and cover that shine with his own, because Tim shouldn't have someone _else's_ kiss lingering on his mouth like that, it's _wrong_ , it's not at all how things are supposed to be. 

“How long's that been happening?” Dick asks brightly.

Tim blinks at him like he doesn't understand the question. “Oh,” he says, after a moment. “Well. Not long. Day or two?” His eyes dart to and from Conner's, and then he squares his shoulders and adds, “I guess we both just got tired of waiting for each other to make the first move.”

Dick coughs. “I'll bet.”

They keep talking, but Conner hardly listens. _A day or two_. If he'd just made his move two days ago, or a week ago, or _any_ of the other times he'd been halfway worked up to it, they'd probably be together now. He's not completely obtuse, he's seen the question in Tim's eyes when he reaches for him, felt Tim's slight body still under his hands when they linger for a second too long, he's heard the words that Tim's never said out loud. He thinks he's heard them. He _thought_ Tim heard him too, but.

“I'm gonna go do some laundry,” he says suddenly, startling both Dick and Tim. “I'll see you guys later.”

***

“Real subtle, Boy Wonder,” Dick laughs when Conner's gone.

“She wasn't supposed to _kiss_ me,” Tim groans, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Shit. I hope this actually works.”

“I think it's working a little _too_ well,” Dick says with a raise of his eyebrow. “Hey, listen, I'm heading back to the 'Haven in an hour or so, but you wanna spar for a bit?” He nudges Tim playfully in the shoulder. “Watchtower's got some pretty legit training rooms.”

“You're on,” Tim grins, adjusting his cape. “Meet you down there in five.”

***

Conner barely manages to stop himself from ripping the dryer off it's hinges and hurling it into space.

“ _Seriously_?” he groans, looking down at himself. _Everything_ he put in is about half a size too small now. His shirt is like a vise, painfully tight around his biceps and clinging to his upper body as snugly as if it were spandex. His jeans – well, they're not leaving anything to the imagination, anyways. He feels like he should probably don a cup just to walk around in them.

“Fuck today,” he mutters, stomping down the hall to zeta back to his apartment and get some stupid clothes that fit. “Fuck today, fuck everything, god fucking damn – ”

A smaller figure collides with him as he rounds the corner and he grunts, throwing his shoulder into the impact. The figure goes sprawling back, landing heavily on his cape – oh, of _course_ it's Tim. Of fucking course.

Conner lets out a long breath and then reaches down to give Tim a hand up. No sense ruining his friendship on top of half his wardrobe. “Sorry,” he says stiffly. “Wasn't paying attention.”

“That's...that's okay,” Tim replies. He sounds winded. Looks it too, Conner realizes, he's glistening with a thin layer of sweat, there's a workout towel thrown over his shoulder. The edge of the high collar of his uniform is damp. Conner wants to lean in, press his nose to it, press his mouth to it. But he waited, missed the window, and now he can't.

Tim runs the back of his wrist over his forehead. “Um, what happened to your clothes?” He's blushing again, eyes drifting down Conner's body before snapping to the floor.

“What does it look like?” Conner snaps. Well, so much for keeping things friendly. “Dryer's busted, or something.”

Tim says, “You should've used the delicates setting.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for that. Would've been nice to know _before_ I went and ruined all my clothes.”

“What, because I'm supposed to just magically know you've never used a freaking dryer before?” Tim crosses his arms. “Live and learn, man.”

“ _No_ ,” Conner says forcefully. “I didn't, how was I supposed to know? No one _told_ me, no one ever tells me, and now it's too late. It's over, I blew it, you don't have to fucking remind me, Jesus.”

“Kon, you have like fifty more of those shirts. It's really not that big of a deal.”

“Sounds like you just have it all figured out,” Conner fires back. He knows he sounds completely unhinged, but he can't seem to stop. “How do you know this one wasn't special? They're all just shirts to you, right?”

“They _are_ just shirts,” Tim points out reasonably. He's got a funny expression on his face. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.” He pauses. “Actually, yeah. When the hell were you gonna tell me about you and Cassie?”

Tim's silent for a moment, and then he says, “What's it to you?”

“You _know_ what it is to me!” 

Tim takes a step back and leans heavily on the wall. His eyes meet Conner's, huge and blue and regarding him steadily, waiting. Conner wilts a little, but stands his ground. He knows there's officially no going back now. If only he'd had this brilliant idea two days ago. 

“I,” he starts. “Tim, you...you have to know. And _I_ thought – that you, I mean.”

Yeah, this is not going well.

Tim narrows his eyes, then lets out a long exhale. “Wow, okay. You are worse at this than I thought.”

Conner straightens. “What – ”

“Cassie and I are just friends, Kon. We're not dating.”

“You're not – ” he frowns. “Then why did she – and you? Wait. What?” There's something like relief, elation, unadulterated joy wavering in his mind, but it's losing out to confusion at the moment.

“We're not,” Tim says firmly. “Truth is, I like someone else. But it's getting a little old waiting for that person to get over themselves and throw me a bone.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Well then.

Conner's moving before his mind is fully finished processing this turn of events. Maybe he's always known, subconsciously. Maybe that's why it feels so familiar, coming to meet Tim's whole body with his, hips slotting together, the line of Tim's belt fitting perfectly under his own. His hands on either side of Tim's neck – it's slippery with sweat, and Conner wants to taste it, wants to do about eight million things that he doesn't even have all the names for, but he settles for closing the last few inches of distance between their faces and _finally_ pressing his lips to Tim's.

It's simple and brief, no tongue gyrations or excessive slobbering, and when he pulls back, it occurs to him to ask, “So, you meant me, right? Because otherwise – ”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Tim groans, and then there are fingers twisting into the back of Conner's hair and he's being dragged forward again. He doesn't resist.

Their second kiss is messier, wetter. They meet each other open-mouthed and hungry, panting out short breaths, Conner swallowing every small noise Tim gives him, Tim's hand snaking up the ladder of his stomach and making Conner press closer, deepen the kiss and plunge his tongue into Tim's mouth. It's a little like sparring, they're sucking and biting at each other, trying to outdo themselves and one another, punctuating each moment with involuntary gasps and thrusts that make Conner slightly lightheaded. The placket of his pants is stretched so tight it might snap, and all he can think about is that he _wants_ , he wants to take Tim back to his apartment and throw him down on the bed, wants to drag him back down the hall to the stupid laundry room with the bullshit dryers, wants to just rip off both their clothes right here in the hall of the Watchtower, consequences be damned.

Someone coughs. Conner's tongue returns to his own mouth and he turns to see Dick standing there, looking determinedly at the ceiling. “So, I was just coming to say 'bye', but, uh, you know. I'll see you guys later. Use protection.”

“Okay, see you,” Tim says weakly. He looks like he wants to sink through the floor. Conner's face is flaming, but he can't help feel a little satisfied that they've been caught. He hopes Dick tells everyone. Even Batman.

Maybe not Batman.

They turn back to each other.

“ _So_ ,” Tim says, still blushing furiously. He rocks his hips against Conner's. “Talk about throwing a guy a bone.”

Conner rolls his eyes, but leans forward and chuckles into Tim's mouth all the same. “Come back to my place,” he mutters between kisses to Tim's jaw. “I'll show you a goddamn bone.”

“You make it sound like a threat,” Tim moans, inclining his chin to give Conner more access to his throat.

“Hey, I gotta get you back for that stunt you pulled with Cassie. You don't even know, man. I was gonna kill something.”

“Is that so?” Tim grins wickedly. “See, you have to admit, my plans are the best.”

“The _worst_ ,” Conner counters, biting down on the space below Tim's ear.

“Can't argue with results, Kon.”

It _is_ somewhat hard to refute, and Conner's position on the matter is becoming less defensible by the minute. He says, “Well, you're still going to pay,” and reaches down to grab a handful of Tim's ass.

Tim doesn't snark back at him for once, just grabs him by the shoulders and kisses him until he's dizzy.


End file.
